Release
by Starving For Attention
Summary: “I know where you’re going with this, and please, just. . . don’t. Don’t even think about it. It’s easier that way, okay?” There was a sort of desperation in his eyes, a silent plea that you could almost hear in his voice, if you listened hard enough.


**Just something I needed to write. No like, no read.**

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"_All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on." - Havelock Ellis_

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We walked slowly side by side, falling into step alongside each other, our feet familiar with the pace we were used to upholding, remaining constant from years ago. Our footsteps made the ground crunch softly beneath our worn keds, disrupting the peaceful silence that had fallen over Castle Rock during the previous hours of night. The sun peeked playfully over the horizon, kissing the grass with a pale butter-yellow hue and making the river shimmer happily, winking at the passersby who were few and far between.

Six years had passed faster than I had ever imagined they would, and with that time came many changes. Teddy and Vern had swiftly become barely more than random faces in the crowd, obscured by clouds of cigarette smoke and piles of sawdust. Vern was about 5 inches taller now, but nonetheless still one girl short from the rest of us. Chris' jean jacket had been exchanged for a swell leather one whose seams had frayed slightly from age, and his dad's .45 had been replaced with a number two pencil which he often secured behind his ear. Though the cigarette box rolled up into his sleeve hadn't quite disappeared (it had in fact only made a move to the front breast pocket of his jacket), Chris Chambers was occasionally observed toting around a textbook or two, spines slightly curved from the familiarity they had developed with being propped open, usually on the carpet of my bedroom floor. He had become more and more of a regular around the Lachance household, either hunching over his books with his hair falling into his scrunched-up eyes, or sitting beside me at the dinner table, unusually quiet while in the presence of my all-too-unwelcoming parents.

Me?

Well, I can't say it's been easy taking all these college courses and whatnot, but I've made it through alright so far, I suppose. I've had an easier time than Chris has at least, I can tell you that much. Things have been different though, that's for sure. Without Teddy or Vern around, it's just been me and Chris hanging. We've grown a bit big for the tree house, but we still pop up there every once in a while when we have a free moment (and when it's void of all those newbies Teddy and Vern bring around every once in a while), just to reminisce and shit. This past summer we mostly spent our time around the town, me delivering papers in the morning for some extra spending money, y'know, and him usually tagging along, trying to avoid his dad as much as possible. But the summer's come and gone, and I can't believe it's already been another year. Six damn years. I guess I wasn't really surprised when I was awoken today by a soft _tap-tap _on my bedroom window at around five this morning. I also wasn't surprised to see Chris standing outside with his hands in his jacket pockets, a small smile decorating the face which was almost completely set in darkness. A slight jerk of the head was all I needed as an indication to get dressed and meet him downstairs.

It was like déjà vu, walking through Castle Rock at this hour of the morning on a hot summer day, the start of a new educational experience looming ominously over our heads and in our hearts. College. We've made it through more years than I can count, side by side, and Chris finally got his wish. He was getting out. He got accepted to the University of Maine, and although it wasn't all the way out of the state, it's out of this shithole these people call a town. His dad was pretty pissed when he found out he was planning on leaving -- tried to beat the idea out of him, downgrade him, ask him if he thought he was too good for his old man, too good for Castle Rock. Truth was, he _was_ too good. He had come to realize it, and so did his pops. He had worked way too hard in school to let this opportunity pass up. And in those moments when no one was watching, when no one was judging, I could see it in his face -- pure, uncensored glee. And although Chris was more than likely just as eager to talk about the prospective future as I was, neither of us said a word until our feet had taken us over the little bridge just outside town, following the path along the railroad tracks that we took six summers ago -- whether consciously or not, I'm not so sure.

"So," he started lamely, stealing a glance at me as we continued walking.

"So."

"Here we go again." He sighed heavily, looking up at the sky as if expecting it to show him a sign. "College. Are you ready?"

I laughed dryly. "Am I ever ready for a first day of school?"

Chris grinned back at me. "Yeah, I know what you mean." His pace slowed deliberately and he nodded at a sizeable rock over to our right, near a patch of greenish-brown bushes. "Wanna sit?"

I shrugged. "Sure," I said noncommittally, but I was kind of thankful that he suggested it first. If he didn't, I was pretty sure we'd wind up walking all the way down to the Back Harlow Road once again, going to see the dead body of a kid who only resembled Ray Brower in ways other than appearance.

Instead of sitting on the rock as I suspected, Chris bent down and planted himself on the cold ground, using the rock as a sort of back rest. He crossed his ankles and looked expectantly up at me, fishing in his pockets for what I'm sure was a pack of smokes he had stashed somewhere. As I sat down beside him, he pulled out two small identical cigarettes and held them out in his open palm, a book of matches in his other hand. I took one graciously and he placed his in between his lips, striking the match and setting fire to the tip of the tobacco, sending swirls of grey smoke into the air. He did the same to mine and I took a long drag, throwing my head back and closing my eyes as I exhaled.

"I can't believe I'm actually leaving this place," Chris said softly, more to himself than to me, it seemed. "After eighteen years of putting up with all the bullshit in this town. . . I'm finally getting away from it all."

"Yeah." I turned my head to look back at Castle Rock. Only the rooftops of the houses were visible behind the trees, but I thought I could make out the gnarled branches of the faithful elm tree that held up the clubhouse I had practically grown up in. "But it wasn't all bad here, right?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris turn his head to follow my line of vision. I could almost hear the smile in his voice as he answered me. "Yeah, we've had some good times."

I chuckled softly, Vern and Teddy's faces popping into my brain as clear as day, as if it were only yesterday that we were all sitting around the wooden block playing poker for pennies. "Like the time when Teddy went into that bar that the Cobras hang out at, on a dare."

"Or when he was laughing at Vern when he tripped and fell in the river, and then we snuck up behind him and pushed him in too?"

At the memory, I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "All I can picture now," I told Chris in between laughing fits, "is Teddy's head bobbing in the water with his glasses all fogged up, swearing at the top of his lungs!"

Chris and I laughed together for what seemed like forever, each of us feeding off the other until we had run out of breath. It felt good. The pain I felt in my stomach as I doubled over seemed to fill the empty hole that appeared there every time I thought about Chris and I moving away to college. Apart.

My laughter was suddenly chased away by my thoughts, and I settled into a silence that seemed to startle Chris. "You okay?" he asked me soberly.

It took me a little while to register the fact that he had asked me a question. When I turned to look at him, he was staring back at me with a look filled with such overwhelming concern that I had to look away, for fear of never being able to. "Chris," I started softly, fixing my eyes on a blade of grass that was shimmying in the wind. I could feel his gaze burning against my cheek. "We. . . _You_. . . You're leaving."

The only sound that I heard in the moments that followed was the fierce howling of the wind, so loud that I feared it would deafen us. And maybe it wouldn't have been all that bad, had it really happened. We would have been disabled, relinquished of any duties to fulfill our dreams and leave this town, and each other. We could have just sat there. Forever. We wouldn't have had to make small talk, or. . . pretend. We could have just been.

"Chris--"

"Don't say it, Gordie."

I looked at him for the first time in minutes, and he was staring at me with such ferocity that I leaned back. "What do you mean?"

"I know where you're going with this, and please, just. . . don't. Don't even think about it. It's easier that way, okay?" There was a sort of desperation in his eyes, a silent plea that you could almost hear in his voice, if you listened hard enough.

I opened my mouth to speak and he cut me off again. "_Gordie_--"

"Well maybe we shouldn't go!"

It was one sentence, but it had the power to suck the wind out of both of us. My chest heaved up and down as I struggled for breath, and as I noticed the incredulous look Chris was giving me, I wished to whoever the hell was up there that I could take it back and pretend it never happened. He obviously didn't feel the same way as I did, anyway.

"What do you _mean, _'maybe we shouldn't go'?" he asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between us. "We shouldn't _go? _What, because we'll be separated? Gordie, we can't hang on to each other forever!"

"I know, Chris." I felt the need to find my little blade of grass again.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder, the weight of it almost more than I could bear at the moment. "Gord, the only way we can make something of ourselves is if we leave this place. You know that." He gulped, a snag in his speech that made it all the less convincing to my own ears. "And if that means we have to go our separate ways, so be it."

I jerked my shoulder away from his reach and turned to face him. I was burning, boiling from the inside out. I had never hated him more than that single moment, not in all my time of knowing Chris Chambers. Right then, I wanted to run away until I couldn't see him anymore, and then come back to find him sitting right where I left him with fucking spider webs on his shoulders. I wanted him to know how I felt.

"How can you say that?" I asked him softly. "How can you just throw away all those years, just for, what? A higher education? _Money?"_

"You know that's not what I meant," he answered, his volume even lower than mine. Shameful. And something inside me exploded.

"Then what _did_ you mean, Chris? Huh?" I stood up so quickly that my shoulder smashed into the side of his face. He swiftly clasped a hand over his cheek, but dropped it just as quickly as he stood up beside me. I almost wished I could see the bruise it would leave right then. I almost didn't feel sorry. Almost.

"Gordie, you've been letting other people hold you back your entire life! Me, Teddy, Vern, your parents, everyone! And here finally comes the opportunity for you to prove to them how amazing you really are, and you're running scared! You can't let me stop you, Gordie." He said that, and I swear he stared at me for a near minute without blinking. He just stared, and I couldn't do anything but stare right back. "You can't let me hold you back."

I know it sounds pussy, but right then, I started crying. I couldn't help it, the tears just kept rolling down my fucking face like some goddamn waterfall, like the dam broke or something. I just kept shaking and crying, and you know what Chris did? He didn't laugh, he didn't stare anymore, he just pulled me to him and hugged me. He let me cry on his shoulder and get his leather jacket all wet and disgusting and shit, and he didn't even care. He even patted me on the head once or twice.

I finally wound up composing myself and I pulled away, but Chris kept his hands on my shoulders, as if he was afraid I was going to collapse right then and there. "I'm gonna miss you, Gordie." I couldn't help thinking that he looked truly tired just then. Tired and sad. He glanced down, as if he couldn't stand to look me in the eye anymore, and I gotta say, I know how he felt.

Eventually he looked back up at me, and the ice blue of his eyes seemed to reflect the sun. It was entrancing, almost blinding. I remember thinking that, and how he was the only kid I knew with eyes that blue, and then the next thing I remember was him grabbed my shirt and pulling me against him, his lips pressing tightly against my own.

I don't think there was another moment in my life that I was so aware of every feeling in my body. The tingling crawling its way up my arm; the tightness in my throat; the nerves bubbling over in my stomach; the uncomfortable pressure and heat between my legs; the pounding of my heart behind my ribs, so loud I was sure it would wake the entire neighborhood and reveal my dirty little secret. Chris' lips.

It took me a lifetime to register what was happening, but I'm not so sure that was what made me wait so long to push him away. I wasn't so sure of anything, right then. But we eventually broke apart, and I curled me hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Being a writer and all, you would think that I would have had a very firm grasp on the English language, but it all seemed to go out the window at that very moment. I'm sure if an outsider had been looking at us, he would have seen two goldfish in a brand new fishbowl, opening and closing their mouths as some silent way of communicating the totally fucked-up-ness of the situation they were in. _Where the hell are we? Do you remember getting here? I sure as hell don't. _

_What happened?_

Chris won the race toward verbal enlightenment. "Gordie, I. . . I'm. . . sorry." I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. I had forgotten how to breathe. I was sure I'd pass out at any second. ". . . Gordie?"

My mind was screaming at me in ten different languages, so loudly that I could barely make out what it was saying, but my legs seemed to know what to do. _Turn around, walk away, _they told me. _Never look back._

I heard him sigh: slow, heavily, laboriously. My head kept telling my feet to keep moving, but apparently they didn't feel like listening, and I slowed to a stop. I turned to look at Chris. His hands were pulling at the ends of his hair, chin down against his chest.

"Chris," I called out, my voice noticeably cracking. He looked up quickly, dropping his hands to his sides, defeated. I paused.

"I'm gonna miss you too."

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